And Mason Carter was still on the loose, happily turning my world upside down.
To say I was devastated about Peter was an overstatement. It wasn’t that I was cold and dispassionate. I genuinely cared for him, and his betrayal hurt. But I wasn’t in love with him. I had only ever been in love once, and that could have been passed off by many as a teenage crush. Yet to me, it wasn’t so trivial.
To say I was devastated by David’s actions? Yes. His behavior was reprehensible. He took what I loved, and used it as a bargaining chip in his sick and twisted game. I cherished my job at the gallery, and now he had forced me to withdraw from my passion in an effort of self-preservation. I’d be continually looking over my shoulder and fighting against his slurs and advances until my contract finished.
And then there was Mason. He’d re-entered my life as toxic as when he’d left it all those years ago. He was my own private stalker, a violent man who would stop at nothing to turn those I love against me, and instill such a fear into my being that any pair of eyes watching felt like him obsessing over my every move.
After a moment of feeling sorry for myself, I came to only one decision.
If I were to come out of any of this unscathed, I needed to regain control of everything.
Finishing up in the shower, I listened as the rings continued to voicemail. Hanging up, I dialed again. Water dripped from the tips of my hair marking my silk robe as I paced back and forth in my bedroom. Just when I thought he was refusing to take my calls, he answered.
“Gemma,” Peter reprimanded through a sleepy voice. “It’s late. What’s wrong?”
“Just ringing to see how you are,” I replied lightly.
“Fine, I guess. Just in bed.”
“Is she there with you?”
There was a tell-tale silence. “Is who there?”
“The blonde who likes to wrap her legs around you while you fuck.”
I wasn’t mad. Maybe a little. But this was all about finding some satisfaction in making him squirm.
“Have you lost your mind?”
Deflection.
Insinuation that I am the one at fault.
Both common tactics used by liars.
“I have pictures, Peter,” I said, feeling a heavy weight lifting off my shoulders.
Peter scoffed, suddenly more alert. “Pictures? You wouldn’t have pictures of anything ‘cause nothing has happened.”
“You don’t need to lie to me anymore. There’s no point. I just wish you had told me you weren’t happy, and we could’ve ended this without one of us being deceitful.”
“So, what do you want from me?” he asked bitterly like this was some kind of divorce conversation.
“I don’t want anything. I suppose I just wanted you to come clean and be man enough to say it to my face. But I guess, you’ve just proven how manly you are. Goodbye, Peter.”
“Gemma! You—”
I ended the call before he had the chance to talk. I felt fresher. Lighter. There was no use in crying over those who deliberately hurt you. They didn’t deserve your grief. My tears from earlier were purely out of frustration, not sorrow.
That was one thing taken care of.
Still, with my cell in hand, I composed a message to Detective Kinross asking if he could meet with me tomorrow. There was only a short minute before he responded with the answer I wanted.
Detective Kinross: Name the time and place.
I scheduled our meeting confident in the fact that Mason Carter needed to be stopped, and this was the only way to do it. I would have to come clean, yet the desire to amass any information that might implicate Lucas played on my mind.
The last thing I had to cross off my priority list was to visit the police precinct tomorrow and file a report against David. If he thought he could get away with this type of behavior, he had another thing coming.
~
“Hi,” Carleen mouthed, a hand covering the mouthpiece of her headset. She flittered from one end of the marble reception desk looking rattled and confused. Frowning at her bizarre state, I smiled and waved, although she barely noticed.
Upstairs in the first gallery space, I could hear Charlie’s voice. “I’m sure he won’t be long,” he said sheepishly. “Coffee? Tea? Wine?”
It wasn’t even midday. I’d spent most of the morning at Form Fitters talking with Brian about how to hang the majority of Rufus’s artwork and wasn’t aware of the unfolding drama back at the gallery.
Charlie hurried down the stairs looking just as out of sorts as Carleen. When he spotted me, his eyes widened, hands raised in exasperation. “Where is David?” he almost shouted but refrained, knowing all noise echoed upstairs to where the guests were seated.
“I don’t know,” I replied without care.
Charlie turned briefly to Carleen. “Try him again.”
Stifling a laugh at the absurdity of it, I bought into the drama. “Okay, you got me. What’s happened?”
Charlie looked like he was mentally preparing for war. “David was supposed to be here at seven. He’s had meetings booked for every half hour until lunch, and he hasn’t showed up and isn’t answering his cell. I’ve now got stock traders who had the eight o’clock appointment sitting upstairs because we all believed he’s just be late. I can’t tell them for a second time that he isn’t even in the building because they’ve already been waiting nearly four hours!”
Even for David, this was unusual. He took his business seriously and was always punctual. Perhaps he had been considerably more inebriated than I first thought. It would have explained his behavior.
“Hello? Are you in there?” Charlie asked, waving a hand to get my attention.
“Call his driver. Perhaps he dropped David off and can pinpoint his whereabouts,” I offered.
“Henry isn’t answering us either.”
“Then we’ll need to reschedule all of his appointments for today until we hear word as to where he could be.”
Charlie made a noise that sounded awfully like a dying cow. “This is not going to end well,” he said, walking to the front counter.
I, on the other hand, knew that David was a big boy and could look after himself. Unless, of course, something bad had happened. I turned to both Carleen and Charlie.
“Just cancel the appointments, and I’ll call the hospital.” They both paused, concerned over the extremity of my response.
“I’m not saying that’s the case,” I reassured. “But at this stage we need to cover everything.” Swiveling on my heel, I took to the stairs and bypassed the guests dressed in black suits as I headed for my office. Once inside, I closed the door and looked around. I no longer saw it as a safe zone. It no longer felt like a place I could grow my career.
Sitting behind my desk, I unlocked the bottom drawer and saw the gift box with Peter’s pictures inside. It still sat in the same place I’d left it. David must have keys to all the office desks, meaning nothing was off limits to his prying eyes.
Started my laptop, I drummed my fingers on the edge of the armrests, lost in thought. I had a lot to achieve today, and I couldn’t let David’s disappearance get in the way. He’d resurface when he decided to crawl back out from under his rock.
My home screen was a news page that often had a mix of serious world news mixed in with local, and comical stories. Before I could enter a search for the hospital’s number, an article caught my eye.
Its headline read, Gallery Owner Found in Compromising Position.
“What the…hell?” Clicking on the link, my eyes widened in horror as I read the disturbing report.